By Aaron Cullers
Contributing Editor Tuesday, September 25th will go down in history as a pretty average day
for most Americans. Most Americans, that is, except the members of the
Ohio Valley Camaro Club.
The automotive world was shocked recently with news of the General Motors
decision to discontinue the Camaro and Firebird lines; two of the predominant
muscle cars in today's auto market.
As a result of this decision, Jim Starney, president of the Ohio Valley
Camaro Club, contacted me regarding what he emotionally described as "the
real terrorist attack."
What follows is an exclusive interview I conducted with the Midwest's
leading Camaro expert.
PASQUINADE: Thank you, Mr. Starney, for agreeing to discuss the
demise of the Camaro and Firebird lines with the Pasquinade.
JIM STARNEY: [heavy weeping] Why, God? Why?
P: I understand your disappointment. Still, could you tell me
your thoughts on GM's figures that show a 53 percent decline in the sports
car market over the last decade?
JIM: Those are fool's figures, I tell you! That's the same type
of propaganda that Hitler hisself would give out to make a point about
those pesky Jews! Those damned, pesky Jews!
P: Um, Mr. Starney—
JIM: Call me Supreme Lord and Master.
P: Right. You do understand that drawing a similarity between
the Holocaust and the end of the Camaro to be a bit on the… how should
I say this… preposterous side?
[At this point Mr. Starney, or Supreme Lord and Master, glared at me
for several minutes without responding.]
P: Where and when did your love for this automobile begin?
JIM: I remember it fondly. 1957—
P: The Camaro was introduced in '67—
JIM: Eat me. As I was saying, this car goes really fast and looks
really cool. So cool, that I started the Camaro Club and ever since I've
preached the truth to the millions and billions of fans that have listened
to me pass along the word of my father regarding his day of reckoning.
[I looked at Starney with complete confusion… and fear… and hunger. I
hadn't eaten in an hour and a half.]
JIM: Er, um… yes! The Camaro shall return, I say. If not, we will
be forced to strike down upon thee with four-cylinder vengeance!
P: Or six. Sure.
JIM: I cry sometimes.
P: Pardon?
JIM: At night. I cry. I cry because I sit and wonder what will
happen now that this beautiful car is gone and so many high school football
players will have no transportation to and from practice and illegal bathhouses.
What happens to them?
P: Perhaps they could borrow their other parent's car instead?
JIM: Stop mocking me.
P: We've talked a lot about the loss of the Camaro line. Have
you had any discussions with any similar organizations bemoaning the loss
of the Firebird? Or is the Ohio Valley Camaro Club planning on furthering
their cause as well?
JIM: Jed from the Firebird Club called me the other day. I told
him we don't need no pansy-ass Firebird drivers. We all know which vehicle
is the purtiest and the dang fastest. All of us, that is, 'cept for that
danged stupid Jed. He dumb. He real dumb.
P: I would assume that both of your organizations would ban together
in a time like this…
JIM: Don't you assume. You know what happens when you assume.
You make an ass out of 17 people. Besides, the only time we ever see that
dumb Jed and his gay posse are on Sunday nights during Rumble night, when
our group takes on their group in a no-holds-barred shiv fight to the
death. Last week we won, when we took out Pony Boy.
P: Are you serious?
JIM: No. I'm just kidding. I think that Pony Boy character was
in a movie.
P: Right, "Star Wars."
JIM: Right. So, we didn't do that. We did, however, capture Jed's
brother and eat his heart in a sacrifice to the Camaro Gods.
[Silence.]
P: I think that's all I need for today.
JIM: Hey, don't go. I was just getting started…
P: That's all the time we have, sorry.
JIM: Sayyyy… you're pretty cute. Kind of like a Camaro. How'd
you like a lube job?
P: Excuse me?
JIM: You heard me. C'mere, boy! Let me wax that bumper!
The interview concluded immediately as I ran. I continued to run for
several hours, looking back several times to see Starney still giving
chase. At one point, I heard him scream, "I'll give new meaning to the
term 'bucket seat!' I promise! You damn Jew!"
I kept running. It was my own personal homage to the Camaro. Legs pumping,
heart pounding. I covered endless miles of blacktop, the wind whipping
at my face and the sun pounding down upon my back. I roared, engine-like,
as I sped down the road. Sped. Down the road. Like a Camaro.
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